Chapter Three Harriet
Chapter Three
Harriet
“Are you okay?” My best friend Maggie nudges me. “I was literally in the middle of telling you about the couple who got caught having sex in the law library, and you just disappeared.”
I shake myself. I gotta get out of my head. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m good. Keep going.”
Except the thing is I’m really not. I’m actually sort of freaking out. I mean, I fully didn’t recognize an entire person who was inside me.
But now I can see it so clearly, those weeks, those nights, with Nic.
It was good, by the way. The sex. Very, very good. It’s why I never suspected he was a virgin. He had moves. Like this one time, when I was on top and he scooped me up like I weighed nothing and twisted me around and—
I press the cool side of my plastic wineglass against the side of my neck. It’s only sixty-five degrees outside, but I feel like I’m on fire.
If he’d given me a couple more seconds, I would have placed him. I’m sure of it.
“Okay…” Maggie sounds unconvinced but launches back into her tale of horny law students.
I didn’t really know Nic at all during our four years together at Pleasantville High.
I was too wrapped up in my own scene—one that included my very serious boyfriend Adam Kozel, who I’d been dating since freshman year.
Who I thought I was going to marry. Who disappeared on me the day after graduation and smashed my heart into a million little pieces.
A few days later, I ran into Nic, and one thing led to another. Suffice it to say he was a great distraction from my pain. Back then, he had a bad haircut and skinny arms, but he was kind. Gentle. Just what I needed to get me through that weird, awful moment of time.
When my mom told me that they’d hired All Bright Catering Company for my birthday party, I didn’t put two and two together. Not until earlier today, when I caught sight of Nic’s older sister, Sara, in the kitchen wearing a chef’s hat and apron.
The connection hit me like a brick, heavy and hard. I turned around and ran straight back into my room, only venturing out again when guests began to arrive. I didn’t see Nic anywhere, so I thought I was in the clear.
Except, obviously, I was wrong.
“Oh my god. I’ve been looking for you guys everywhere.” Steven walks up wearing a huge grin, a fresh glass of champagne in each hand. He shoves them at us. “Didn’t you hear?” he says. “There’s a fight in the kitchen!”
My right eye starts to twitch. I knew it. I knew this party was a terrible idea. It’s probably my parents, at each other’s throats like they always are.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, then take off for the sliding door.
I hear the yelling as soon as I step inside. Surprisingly, it doesn’t sound like my mother.
The hallway from the living room into the kitchen is tight with party guests, all presumably trying to get a glimpse of the drama.
I’m pushing my way through the congestion when a woman appears from it, her face tight with fury. People part in waves to let her pass.
It’s Sara Allbright, her chef’s hat askew, blue apron speckled with sauce.
“Hey!” I try to catch her attention. “What’s going on—” But she vanishes around the corner.
I finally make it into the kitchen and find George sprawled on the floor clutching his chest. My mother’s hovering over him, nervous hands fluttering through the air.
Is he having a heart attack?
I look between them. “Is George okay?”
George shoots upright. “I was just assaulted!” he shrieks. “By a chef!”
Right. Not a heart attack. I should have known better than to think this was actually something real.
“Oh my god. You were not,” Nic mutters. He’s pressed against the center island, his arms crossed tight against his chest. Next to him, an older woman dressed in a catering uniform elbows him hard in the bicep, and he winces.
Whispers grow around me, and I spot several people recording this mess. Fantastic. I’m sure it’s going to be all over social media before the night’s end.
I turn back to my mother and her husband. “What happened?” I ask them. I sound like I’m talking to a couple of children, which, honestly, is not that far off from the truth.
George makes a show of struggling to his feet and carefully dusting off his gray slacks before answering.
“Well, Harriet. I came in here to tell the chef that her tuna canapés tasted odd. You’d think she’d thank me for the feedback, but instead…
” He sniffs. “She cursed at me. In my own home! I’ve never experienced such terrible behavior in my entire life. ”
“Okay. But why the hell were you lying on the floor?”
“Harriet!” my mother gasps, like hearing me say hell took ten years off her life.
I really need to move out. I make a mental note to follow up with every job I’ve ever applied to on LinkedIn first thing tomorrow.
“Because she shoved me!” George cries. “Toppled me straight to the ground!”
The older woman steps forward, voice strained by stress. “Again, I cannot express how deeply sorry I am about all this, Mr. George. I’ll personally see to it that Sara is formally reprimanded for her behavior—”
“Fired,” George interrupts.
The woman looks flustered by this, but after a second, she nods. “Fired. Right. Of course.”
“Who’s fired?” my dad says, striding in with Cynthia, Gogo, and Vicky trailing behind them. George stiffens. He hates my dad.
“We have it under control, Jack,” my mom says, spitting out my dad’s name. She also hates him.
“Are you sure?” my dad asks with a smirk. “Because it certainly doesn’t seem that way, Lisa. I could hear you from the other room.”
“Well, excuse me for breathing,” my very mature mother snaps.
“We don’t need your help with this,” George cuts in. “Or with anything at all, for that matter. I have it handled.”
The three of them start loudly arguing, much to the amusement of the crowd.
What a family I have. Vicky’s brow is furrowed; she probably wishes she was back in London. I don’t blame her at all. Maybe I should ask her about the job market over there.
“Please. Stop.” I step between them, forcing my voice to stay calm through sheer willpower and a burning desire not to hash out our stupid family drama in front of half my high school graduating class.
“I’m sure whatever happened was a mistake.
” George starts to argue, but I talk over him.
“And it sounds like this nice woman has apologized. Can we please move on?”
My dad grins. “You’re right, honey. It’s your birthday! We should be celebrating. George, old boy,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. George scowls. “I’m sure whatever happened can be remedied with a stiff drink. Let’s go grab one in the other room.”
And with that, he wraps a beefy hand around George’s arm and drags him out of the kitchen.
Drama over, the crowd finally disperses, on their way, I’m sure, to post all this on Instagram. The woman in the catering uniform lets out a tired sigh.
“You okay?” Nic asks her.
She blows out a slow breath. “Your sister—” Her eyes land on me, and she cuts off and shakes her head. “Never mind. Let’s get back to work. We’ll chat later.”
She hurries away, leaving me alone with Nic.
An uncomfortable silence settles between us.
“Your mom?” I ask for lack of anything better.
He rubs his forehead. “Yup. My sister’s the feisty, fired chef. It’s a fun family operation.” He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes.
Guilt nips at me. It’s possible that maybe, just maybe, I should apologize for our earlier interaction. What if he thinks I’m as big of an asshole as George and my mom?
“About what I said on the porch—”
“No, thanks. I’m good,” he interrupts, rubbing a hand against his jaw. “I get it. I mean, why would you remember me? It was just sex, right? Totally unimportant to someone like you.”
Ew. Someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean? What a dick. Of course I remembered him; I just didn’t recognize him. Not that I’m in the mood to explain the difference right now.
I glare at him. “Well. This is all so very pleasant, but I have to go. Somewhere else. Literally anywhere else but here.”
“Fine,” he says, an echo of earlier.
“Fine.”
I spin around on my heel and stomp out of the kitchen.